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Eve felt like moaning too. She wasn’t sure she’d ever felt better than this.

Not just physically. Emotionally.

Like she and Jude were no longer two different people. They were one.

When a few nagging thoughts prickled at the back of her mind—about how she wouldn’t have much longer to be one with him like this—she ruthlessly forced them back.

She wasn’t going to do that tonight. She wasn’t going to be sad.

Because right now she was with Jude all the way. She loved him, and he loved her back. And they both felt better than anything.

She was going to enjoy it. All night.

For as long as she could.

Two mornings later, they got up early because they had to fly home.

Eve felt bleak and heavy and exhausted. She used to always enjoy going home after a trip—the familiar security of homecoming was welcome no matter how much fun she’d had on vacation—but this was different.

She wasn’t going back to her regular life.

She was going back to Jude’s death.

They’d hiked the Grand Canyon like he wanted. Yesterday they’d taken a hot-air-balloon ride to get a unique view of the scenery, which had absolutely thrilled Eve. Then they’d hung out, napped, and had sex in the afternoon. But now their trip was over.

Jude had nothing left on his bucket list. He’d gone to each travel destination he’d listed. He’d finished his book. And he’d gotten married.

That was it.

Now they had to return to Green Valley and wait for him to die.

She hated it. She wasn’t sure how she’d even be able to do it. Yes, this whole situation was a result of her own choices, but it still felt like she’d been thrown into it. Tossed into a torrential ocean with no raft and no memory of how to swim.

At least before they’d had goals. Now they had none.

She tried to push away the grief and maintain a bright mood as they finished packing and dressing and ate a light breakfast brought in by room service, but every smile and laugh and pleasant remark was stretched. Forced.

And Jude wasn’t going to be fooled by it.

He must be feeling heavy too because he was quieter than normal. As he was brushing his teeth and packing the last of his toiletries, she went outside to sit at the table on their terrace, staring at the pink-and-apricot skies of sunrise over the desert.

She wanted to cry, but she didn’t.

After a few minutes, Jude came out too and sat beside her. He didn’t say anything. He wore a pair of tan trousers and an untucked blue button-up. He finished rolling the sleeves as he sat.

“How long do we have?” She was trying to focus on practicalities, but the question sounded ominous in the silence.

He cleared his throat. “About twenty minutes.”

“Okay. Good.” Her voice wobbled slightly despite her attempt to stay strong.

He reached over to cover her hand on the table with one of his own. He didn’t hold it or squeeze it. Just covered it.

“I’m sorry,” she said with a ragged gasp. “We’ve had such a good time here. I don’t want to ruin it at the very end.”

“You aren’t ruining anything. You’re allowed to cry if you want.”

“I don’t want to cry. But I don’t want to go home. It feels…”

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